


An Unexpected Proposal

by black_tea



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!Mycroft, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Beta!Sherlock, Bonding, M/M, Omega!John, Omegaverse, Protective Mycroft, Sexism, Sexual Content, Sexual Harrassment, but not from the Holmes brothers, but underestimate John at your peril, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-09-26 21:43:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9923354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_tea/pseuds/black_tea
Summary: John returns home from Afghanistan to find himself in a difficult situation. It's not easy being an omega without a mate in Victorian England. Though highly competent, most can't seem to see past his status. To make matters worse, he no longer has access to the suppressants handed out by the army. However, a chance meeting puts him in contact with one Sherlock Holmes and leads to something even more unexpected. Suddenly John has the prospect of a better life, if he can only bring himself to take it.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was only supposed to be a little side project. I intended to take a short break from working on the rough draft of my next X-Files fic to bang this one out, but it ended up being twice as long as originally intended. Curse those plot bunnies, always throwing a wrench in things. Now that I have the rough draft of this one rapidly nearing completion, I feel OK about going ahead and posting. Updates will be weekly.

As the cab clattered through the crowded London streets, John once more unfolded and read the letter from his sister. The paper had long ago lost it's crispness as it was taken out and handled and reread, it's contents carefully considered. It was actually short and to the point, much more so than he was used to hearing from her. In it was the address of the boarding house she had managed to find. It wasn't as if he had a wide range of choices. Single omegas living on their own weren't safe or welcome just anywhere. Technically, he could have gone back home to his good natured but irresponsible alcoholic of a father and his sister, whom he loved, but feared was traveling down a similar path. It was the reason he had done what few others like himself had managed – fought his way through medical school and then joined the army. He cared for the welfare of his family members, but he couldn't be around them anymore. As he reached adulthood, he soon understood his well being was in his own hands. For an omega, such a realization brought with it a great deal of uncertainty. Yet, he had attempted to rise to the occasion and had been making his own way ever since.

Harry, he could never think of her by any other name, must have understood. She never asked him to come home. Although, that could have easily been due to the burden that John represented. And, though John hated to admit it, he doubted they could have kept him safe during heat. They meant well, but they weren't people you could depend on for your health and safety. The cab's other two passengers had gotten off some time before, leaving him alone with the complete and utter mess of his thoughts. As a soldier, he had a career, a place to be, but now that was over, and he had to readjust to a world where he was a male omega in an unenviable position.

After what seemed like an eternity, the cab pulled up outside a tall narrow house in a densely packed street. It wasn't a slum by any means, but there was a seediness to the buildings. There would be a house here and there that was spruce and in good repair being squeezed out by it's neighbors with pealing paint, faded curtains and an air of neglect. The road itself was narrow and shadowed from the row of houses on each side. He paid the cabby, retrieved what little luggage he had, and checking the address once more against the letter. He adjusted his hat and knocked on the door of the boarding house.

A plain, thin, middle aged woman answered the door and ushered him inside. Her tightly pulled back hair and plain dress were as severe as her manner. She was firm and business like as she went over the rules. “And there will be no alphas permitted in this house. It's for the safety of all the residents.”

“Yes ma'am.”

“Rent is always paid on the first of the month. You can take meals with us in the dining room. Dinner is at seven o'clock sharp.”

Some of her sternness faded for a moment. “Your sister said you were a doctor. It's always good to have a doctor in the house.” 

She called for her son to help John with his bags and show him to his room on the second floor. The son was a strapping young man, John guessed his age at someone where around mid twenties. Like his mother, he was a beta. John suspected his mother employed him as much for his size as any other reason. A concentration of unmated omegas could be an unfortunate draw for unscrupulous alphas. Though shabby, the boarding house was scrupulously clean, which pleased John to no end. The last thing he wanted to do was spend his time fighting off vermin and sickness.

They passed one man in the hall, a nondescript middle aged fellow who nodded affably at the son and regarded John with some curiosity. John opened the door to the left of the stairs and stepped inside. His lodgings ended up being cramped and dark. Clean at least, but there was little else to recommend them. Once alone, he sank down on the edge of the narrow bed with his head in his hands. It shouldn't have to be like this, but it was, and tomorrow he would have to begin seeking employment. He had letters of recommendation, a medical degree, and experience working as an army doctor. He only hoped it would be enough.

* * *

“I'm terribly sorry Mr. Watson, I can offer you a position as nurse, but we don't employee omegas as doctors. It's far too demanding a profession.”

“And yet I obtained a medical degree and served in the army as a doctor. I should think that would be enough to prove that I am fully capable of a demanding profession.” John took a deep breath. He knew it would be hard, but this was ridiculous. The man wouldn't even give him the courtesy of his professional title.

“I'm sorry, lad, but the answer is no. It's against hospital policy, and you'll be hard pressed to find an institution so lax that they would accept you.”

John stared back at the inoffensive looking man who had so roundly insulted him. It was as if John's words had never even penetrated. Unfortunately, it had been two weeks of looking up private practices and hospitals, and the answer was always the same. “No, we're sorry, but we can't employee an omega as a doctor. We wouldn't be doing right be you either.” They always said it as if they were really doing him a favor. His stint serving over seas meant nothing to them. No one wanted to rock the boat, to be the first.

John stood. “I see I am wasting my time here.”

“As I said before, we would be happy to bring you on as a nurse.”

“Sir, I have the exact same degree that you do and experience to boot. How would you like to resign your position and be taken on as a nurse. Good day.” John swept out, feeling slightly guilty about denigrating the position nurses held. They were incredibly hard working people, and deserved far more respect than they usually received. However, he was not a nurse.

Unfortunately, he was running out of options. He had contacted the professor who had been instrumental in his completion of medical school, but Dr. Browning was of little help beyond furnishing him with a reference. John had hated asking him for that much. He was in many ways indebted to the man. Browning insisted that John be allowed to complete his degree when others would have gladly seen the back of him. Browning helped concoct a medication to lessen his heat symptoms so he wouldn't fall behind. But Browning had his own agenda. He wanted to prove that an omega could accomplish such a thing, and he wanted to be the man to take the credit when it happened. He treated John as a laboratory animal of sorts, his symptoms and urges fascinating. He wanted to know what made John tick, how he functioned, and if this could be overcome. 

It was an awkward position to be in. Though Browning in many ways supported him, he was just as conscious of John's status as those who would have barred him from admittance into hallowed halls of medical academia. He treated John about the same as well, in the sense that John wasn't a real fully fledged individual. He was an omega, and that was all. John didn't exist in three dimensions, just the one.

He decided to head back to the boarding house. He wanted to check in on Mr. Deads whose heat had begun in earnest the day before. The house's residents, including their landlady, did what they could to help each other, but heat for an unmated omega was a harrowing experience. Knowing that it would eventually be his turn to be tied down, half out of his mind with need, made his stomach knot and sink. He would have given anything to be back in Afghanistan, back in the desert, back where he had a place, and he was a real person. However, even if a bullet hadn't cut short his tenure in the army, they would not have kept him more than another six months. The medication they gave omegas to suppress their cycles couldn't be taken long term without the very real risk of infertility. He would have been sent home and could reapply in a year once his body had the chance to recover normal functioning, but they rarely accepted omegas back after their first stint. It was considered too great a risk.

No, this was his life now, and it was up to him to make something of it. His thoughts were promptly interrupted by a shout from behind him. “Watson? Is that you?”

John swung around to see a plump, vaguely familiar looking man hurrying towards him. It took him a moment before he recognized the face. “Doctor Stamford, I assume you're still a doctor?”

“Yes, yes, an instructor now at St. Bart's.” He beamed at John. He and Stamford had always gotten along well in school, considering he was one of the few that didn't view John with pity or scorn. He didn't necessarily understand what being an omega entailed, or just how difficult dealing with the blatant sexism was, but he had always been fair minded and trusted John to know his own business. “And you back from a war? How are you holding up?”

“Looking for employment, actually.” He didn't hold out much hope that his old friend could help him. 

“While St. Bart's might be more open to giving you a chance, we aren't hiring at the moment. I'd be happy to give you a letter of recommendation, however, if you should need one. Where are you staying?”

“At a boarding house. All omegas – been there for over two weeks.”

Stamford immediately looked concerned. “Look John, I understand where there might be difficulty with lodgings, but those places don't tend to be safe. Even if they keep alphas out, they know it's good hunting ground and can simply wait while the tenets come and go. You can't go home to your family?”

“They're hardly equipped. I'll be fine.”

Stamford thought for a moment. “I do know of someone looking to share a flat. A male beta. He mentioned it to me today.”

John frowned. “Most male betas aren't comfortable living with omegas considering, ah -”

Stamford held up one meaty hand. “Say no more, John. I understand. However, in this case, I doubt it will be a problem. He is a bit different than the average beta. Come along, and I'll introduce you.”

* * *

John tagged along with his friend more from curiosity than any real hope. He wasn't sure what, exactly, he was going to find, but he found himself caught off guard by the brusque, energetic man with the wild mop of dark hair bending over test tubes and beakers. A man who, without any introduction, guessed immediately at John's purpose there.

“Of course you're looking for a place to live. You've just come back to England, and you're here with Stamford whom I mentioned the flat to this morning.” He continued on as John watched, nonplussed by both the man's immediate guess and that he didn't seem to want or need any information on John at all despite being a potential flatmate.

“Don't you want to know more about me, before allowing me in your home?”

“Don't be silly. I already know all about you. “You served in the military, overseas – Afghanistan. You were also wounded there, enough to send you home, but not crippling. You're a doctor and an omega, no mate. Your roots are middle class, though you've been experiencing some bad luck lately.” He regarded John shrewdly. “It isn't an easy world for an unmated omega.”

John stared at him for a moment. “That's amazing.”

Sherlock simply shrugged. “The creases at the corners of your eyes suggest you've been squinting into the sun, that combined with your tan tells me you were overseas, most likely in a desert environment. The army does take on omegas in the medical profession, and I know you're an omega by the way other people react to you. The lab assistant is an alpha, and he couldn't take his eyes off you. Your neck is unmarked, and you wear no ring, so no mate. Your suit is well made, but out of date, and your shoes are well worn. You had enough money to buy them initially, but not to replace them now. Not surprising since omegas have fewer career options open to them. Since your tan has not yet faded significantly, you've only come back to England recently.”

He slid into his overcoat. “I hope you don't mind violin playing. I find it helps me think.”

“No, not all.” John replied, wondering how things had come so far so fast. “I am an omega, you do know I will go into heat. Not all betas -”

Sherlock cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Yes, yes. I know. Going into heat is what omegas do. The address is 221B Baker Street.” He added. “I think you'll find the rent quite affordable. I must be going now, but I'll be seeing you later this afternoon. Mrs. Hudson is the landlady, I'll let her know to expect you.”And with that, he was gone.

John turned to Stamford with a dazed expression. “He's always like that.” His friend shrugged.

And with that, John's brief stint at the boarding house ended, and his life back in London truly began.


	2. Of Elder Brothers and Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds out Sherlock isn't an only child, and said brother is full of surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, another chapter up. I have the next one all ready to post as well, so everything's well on track. I'll probably be adding some more tags as I go along too. Thanks to everyone who subscribed/bookmarked/commented/kudo'd so far - I really appreciate it : )

John stood on the corner attempting to flag down a cab. Chilly drizzle began trickling down his neck and catching in the brim of his hat. His desire for a speedy trip home greatly increased with the unpleasantness of the weather. Sherlock had an errand to run leaving John to find his own transportation. On one hand, he was mildly annoyed because empty cabs were suddenly no where to be found. On the other hand, it pleased him that Sherlock didn't feel the need to be over protective of his omega friend. Finally a driver pulled up his horses near John, and he gladly climbed into the hansom, giving the cabby his Baker Street address.

The cab had one other occupant, a young female beta. She was dressed smartly in a well tailored suit with her hat perched at a jaunty angle. Her clothing wasn't ostentatious, but it was well made, lending an air of respectability. After a short time, John realized they were traveling in the wrong direction. However, the driver ignored his protests.

“Oh, we aren't going to your home. My employer would like to speak with you.” The young woman said in a pleasant voice without looking up from her little book. She penciled something in, but what she was writing, John couldn't see.

“What do you mean? Who's your employer?”

“Don't worry, Doctor Watson. You'll see him soon.”

“And who are you?”

“Anthea.” She replied, giving only her Christian name without looking up.

John sat back, unsure what to do, or if there was anything he could do. Throwing himself out of the cab into traffic seemed like a terribly bad idea. Anthea appeared completely unconcerned by the goings on, nor was she particularly talkative. She always answered pleasantly while giving as little information as possible. Another ten minutes or so passed, and the horses slowed to a walk and then a stop. 

“Here we are. If you'll follow me, please.” 

John did as he was told, not seeing many other options. He decided to trust his ability in physical scraps if it came to that. John was hardly weak. They entered what appeared to be an empty warehouse, an oil lamp casting a golden halo in the otherwise darkened building. Standing in the light was the figure of a tall, lean man. John came to a halt just within the lamp's glow. Close enough to converse with this person, but not too close. He was immediately hit by alpha male scent, putting him immediately on alert. He also realized that the mysterious Anthea had slipped away.

John looked the man over, being especially careful to stay out of arm's reach. He didn't have Sherlock's powers of deduction. He couldn't read the man's history from the angle of his hat or the lint on his sleeve. However, he was good at assessing physical threats – a skill learned partly through military training, and partly due to being an omega that had to look out for unmated alphas. The man was a good deal taller than John himself, not particularly surprising since he was an alpha and John omega. He carried himself with confidence, but did not have the physique or bearing of a brawler. John felt confident that if necessary, he could break free and escape. 

The man continued to study John, seeming content to stay where he was and allow John to move as close as he was comfortable. “There is a chair, if you'd like to sit.” He gestured to one plain wooded chair out of place in the otherwise empty surroundings.

“I'd rather stand, thank you.” There was no way John was about to let his guard down, alone, near a strange alpha who wanted heaven knew what from him.

“Why bring me here?”

“To speak to you without Sherlock Holmes knowing, of course. You've recently begun sharing lodgings.” The man answered, his accent smooth and educated, even and calm. He continued to regard John with intelligent eyes. His suit was perfectly tailored and looked expensive. An expensive suit to go with expensive, pretty speech.

“I'm sorry, but I fail to see how that's any of your business.” John was becoming confused. His natural assumption when being faced with questionable behavior from an alpha, was that they wanted something from him as an omega. However, the conversation was drifting towards Sherlock instead.

“But it is my business. I worry about him very much, you see.”

“Then you're a friend?” 

“He doesn't have friends, though I'm probably the closest thing to one. Of course he would actually consider me an enemy, but he always did have a flair for the dramatic. I'm willing to offer you money if you keep me informed of his doings. Don't worry, I'm not seeking compromising information, I just want to know what he's up to.”

“You're offering to pay me to spy on him?” When John had been brought here, this was the last thing he had expected.

“You're not a wealthy man, Doctor Watson. I'm well aware that our sometimes backwards society makes it difficult for omegas to find work befitting their skills.”

“No. I'm not taking your money to spy on Sherlock.” John didn't have to even think about the answer. He couldn't imagine doing such a thing. His life was not so miserable that he needed to stoop to spying on a friend in order to support himself.

“Loyal, aren't you? And you haven't known him that long yet. Not many omegas become soldiers or doctors. Interestingly enough, those that join less traditional occupations tend to excel at them. It's being forced to prove yourself over and over again. You have to be better than the betas.” He took a several steps closer, causing John to regard him with renewed wariness, yet he didn't back away. He didn't want to appear frightened or weak, and thus, a victim.

The man reached for John's hand, and he snatched it away, drawing the line at physical contact. “Don't.” He snapped.

The look John received in response was slightly amused. “May I?” The alpha asked this time, holding out his own hands to receive John's.

John wasn't entirely sure why he acquiesced, curiosity he supposed, coupled with the feeling that the action wasn't meant to be aggressive. He found his hand taken gently by the alpha's larger, long fingered hands. Smooth, soft hands unaccustomed to manual labor. His belly quivered in response, but John ignored it. His body constantly attempted to tell him all kinds of things, inappropriate things at inappropriate times. He was well used to setting those feelings aside and getting on with things.

“You have intermittent tremors in your hand, but now they are perfectly steady despite the stress. You do well under pressure and miss being a soldier. Sherlock gives you some of that back.” He released John and took a step back so that he was no longer crowding his personal space. “Welcome back to England, Doctor Watson.” With that, he turned and walked away, his dark clad form gradually swallowed by the surrounding darkness. 

John just stood staring after the retreating figure, unsure what to think. “I'll make sure you get home.” A female voice spoke by his shoulder. “This way.” He was led back to the carriage and climbed inside. “221B Baker Street.” He informed the woman.

“I know.” She replied pleasantly as she went back to consulting her little book.

_What strange people._ He thought. He could only suppose the man was a criminal hoping to get a jump on the detective. But if that was the case, he was certainly polite about it. Most criminals didn't take the word 'no' quite so well.

It was some time later before he learned that the strange alpha was in fact, Sherlock's older brother.

The weeks passed, and John found a new life and new found sense of purpose. He assisted Sherlock the best he could, wrote in a leather bound journal with the intention of someday putting their adventures down into book form. He was certain people would enjoy reading them. He had even been able to resurrect his career in the medical profession, at least to a small extent. He had been called on several times to see omega patients who weren't comfortable with the beta doctors who often didn't understand or listen to their concerns. John had Mr. Deads to thank for his patients. It seemed he had put the word out about the omega doctor.

He periodically found himself in the company of Mycroft Holmes, the very clever, very posh and sometimes irritating older brother of his friend. To say that he and Sherlock had a bad case of sibling rivalry would be an understatement. But for the elder Holmes' faults, he genuinely worried for Sherlock's well being and never treated John dismissively for being an omega. He could be a snob in other ways, but a person's status was of little matter to him as it was to Sherlock. John found this decidedly refreshing after the sexism he had been faced with upon his return to British shores.

He occasionally exchanged letters with his sister who was attempting to improve herself. Though John feared as long as she lived under the same roof as their father, she would be continuously hampered in that regard. Life had taken on a feeling of normalcy again, despite he and Sherlock's rather unusual way of living what with his career as a consulting detective and tendency to turn their little kitchen into a laboratory. However, there was always a shadow sitting in the back of John's mind. The rain cloud that was destined to descend, because after all, he was an omega, and his biology wouldn't allow him to forget forever.

* * *

Mycroft showing up on their doorstep early one Tuesday afternoon wasn't a surprise. He stopped by to check up on his brother or to ask for his assistance on cases. Sometimes Sherlock refused, and other times accepted depending on the case and his level of boredom. This time, Sherlock had left for St. Bartholomew's earlier that morning in order to monitor a new experiment, leaving John to deal with the arrival of the elder brother.

“Ah, John. I had been wanting to have a private word with you.” He said by way of greeting. John supposed he had intentionally waited until he knew Sherlock had gone before knocking on the door.

“All right, here I am.” John's immediately assumed that he was either checking on Sherlock's welfare, or he wanted his brother to do something that Sherlock wasn't going to want to do. Either way, he was seeking John's help in softening him up. 

It quickly became clear that Mycroft had something other than his younger sibling on his mind. “Normally, this wouldn't be something I would go to you with first. However, considering your age and independent situation, it doesn't seem right for me not to make this offer to you directly.”

“And what offer would that be?” In John's world such a statement generally lead up to one thing, but he had difficulty believing that Mycroft could possibly be considering it.

“Your hand, dear John.” He held up a hand to forestall an immediate reaction. “We are alpha and omega in the unenviable position of being unattached. As I am sure you know, finding a suitable mate is no easy task. Yet fate, or maybe I should say, my brother, seems to have thrown us together thus handing us a rather neat solution.”

John stared at him, shocked, the afternoon taking on a layer of unreality.“Why me, I mean, I'm nobody, really. I don't have wealth or prestige or family connections.” John asked, trying to understand the situation he never once thought he'd find himself in.

“Sadly, bloodlines are no guarantee of good breeding stock. You're small, as you should be, but sturdily enough built to safely carry pups. Besides, you intrigue me, John. Here you are, such a mass of contradictions. A little omega with all an omega's vulnerabilities, yet also a medical doctor returned from a war. Average intelligence, but can keep up with my brother. All the instincts and needs of an omega – and don't tell me you don't have them. I've been watching you react to me since I walked through the door – and yet you have maintained an impressive degree of independence. You are an impressive man.”

Mycroft had strode a little closer as he spoke, and John had to force himself not to step away. Not because he feared the man, but because he didn't trust his own reactions. Mycroft's _alphaness_ was difficult to ignore, his close proximity waking his body and instincts. John excelled at hiding his body's responses. However, Mycroft's ability to pick up on minutia bordered on uncanny.“And what makes you think I don't want to keep on with my independence?”

Mycroft smiled a bit. “Because you are still an omega, and omegas do not do well on their own.” Upon seeing the stony look on John's face, he continued. “Come now, John, you have medical expertise. You know I'm right. Going through heat cycles without a mate is a strain on the body and the mind. You are made to be one half of a pair.”

John regarded him silently. He longed to tell Mycroft that he was wrong, but couldn't. There was nothing untrue about those statements. John had first hand knowledge. “If it's any consolation, alphas who mate experience a greater degree of emotional stability.” Mycroft added. 

He had come close enough that John could reach out and touch him. He couldn't keep himself from stiffening, though he did quell the urge to take a step back or to drop his head submissively. He did, however, move his gaze slightly to the side of Mycroft's left shoulder. He suddenly found it too difficult to look the man in the eye. And yet it appeared he would not be allowed to avoid eye contact. Mycroft's soft fingers found his chin and firmly, yet with a surprising degree of gentleness, turned John towards him. He could barely force himself not to press into Mycroft's touch, to nuzzle against the warm hand. Mycroft studied the smaller man carefully. John assumed he was making deductions based on a hundred little tells that John didn't realize he was even making. 

Whatever Mycroft saw in his face must have pleased him, for he smiled and brushed the back of his fingers down John's cheek. “I do not expect an answer now, of course. I merely wish you to think on the benefits of such an arrangement.” He dropped his hand and stepped back out of John's space. John took a deep breath and willed some of the tension to leave his shoulders. 

“Ah, there you both are.” Sherlock burst in, but promptly stopped. He looked back and forth between them. “I should have known.”

“Ah, known what, Sherlock?” John asked, feeling a bit like a guilty school boy.

“Oh for heaven's sake, I can practically smell the chemical attractants, and I'm a beta. Besides your pupils are dilated and your cheeks are flushed indicating a rise in body temperature, both common symptoms of arousal. And my brother looks far too smug. Shall I leave you two alone and come back later? Or perhaps I should act as chaperon so John can keep his virtue intact?”

“Brother mine, you needent leave on our account. We were merely having a conversation.” Mycroft sighed.

“My virtue is just fine, thank you, Sherlock.”

“Good to know. Though personally, worrying about virtue is a waste of mental power. You would think people would have better things to worry about than who is doing what with whom. I'm sorry you're saddled with such urges, John. It must make life difficult.”

John rolled his eyes. “Is this necessary, Sherlock?”

“Yes, I must concur with John on this.”

John should have been relieved by the interruption Sherlock provided, but his feelings were more mixed. He knew that he was meant to react to Mycroft a certain way, because he was an alpha. An alpha that was known and considered 'safe.' It wasn't in his nature to immediately refuse Mycroft. An omega's instincts trumped many other less mundane considerations. Finding a mate meant a better guarantee of health, safety and stability. One did not simply throw that away, even if it came from an unexpected quarter.

They did not discuss the proposal further that afternoon, but the energy had subtly changed. In the course of a half hour, Mycroft had gone from being Sherlock's rather arrogant brother to suitor and person most able to utterly change John's position.

* * *

John sat quietly half listening as Sherlock played the violin. He wasn't certain why Mycroft's proposal surprised him. He was an alpha, John an omega. They were acquainted with each other through Sherlock. It wasn't uncommon for omega's to marry up, since the pool of prospective mates was a small one. Yet, never had he thought, when he opened the door that afternoon, that Mycroft Holmes would actually ask to court him.

The question, of course, was what to do about it. He had no doubt that Mycroft was a brilliant man that could provide a comfortable life for his family. Yet, he had always struck John as cold and more than a little arrogant. He glanced sideways at Sherlock. On the other hand, he put up with Sherlock day in and day out. For all their bickering, Mycroft clearly cared deeply for his younger brother. Surely that counted in the man's favor. More than that, there was a part of him that positively ached for an alpha's touch. He spent so much time denying the omega within himself, tamping it down, locking it up. Not because he hated or was ashamed of what he was, but because it was the only way he could survive unmated and independent. The interaction with Mycroft reminded him of just how exhausting the lie he lived everyday was. He dreaded of upcoming heat.

The violin stopped. “You're considering it, aren't you?”

“Hmmm?” Sherlock's voice pulled John out of his thoughts.

“Letting my brother claim you. If you weren't, you wouldn't be thinking so hard about it. You also never denied his suit when I walked in on the two of you.”

John considered denying it, but couldn't. “You don't know what it's like to be an omega.” He said instead.

“No, I thankfully do not. But I am not unsympathetic, John.”

“I should be going into heat in three to four days. I may, _will_ need your assistance.” 

“You will have it.”


	3. Of Mycroft, Cases, and Foxes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday Eve, everybody. I'm posting this a few days early, since tomorrow and Saturday will be hectic for me.

Heat was every bit as hellish as John had feared. He knew it was beginning when he woke up three days later hot and flushed despite the cool weather. Oversensitive skin made him wince as he attempted to dress. It only deteriorated from there. He spent most of the next three days tied down to his bed, only let up to use the toilette and while Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson coaxed him to eat and drink when the waves of arousal and desperation rolled out giving him short spans of semi relief. The entire affair was humiliating. He hadn't wanted his friends to see he him in such a state – writhing helplessly against the mattress, begging for relief that no one had the power to give him. The experience had been grueling and left him exhausted and weak after it's passing. Sherlock had to actually help him to the bath. 

“This is what happens when you barely eat for three days.” He commented as he half supported John's weight.

“I wasn't exactly hungry at the time.” _Or not for food, anyway. It's no wonder betas think us wanton and immoral. But how can behavior you have no control over be immoral? No it is neither here nor there. It's down to nature and must be endured._

He apologized to Mrs. Hudson when she appeared later that afternoon to offer him a cup of tea. “Don't be silly, dear.” She replied. “You can't help it. Better that you're safe here with us. You are looking peaky, though. You need a good dinner. Mycroft stopped by to ask after you, he seemed concerned. He is quite interested in you.”

“Does everyone in London know about this business with Mycroft?” John demanded.

“Seeing as there are millions of people living in this city, it is doubtful that they are all aware that my brother is courting you.” Sherlock replied to the purely rhetorical question.

The very thought of Mycroft brought with it a pang. His desire for immediate sex was gone with the end of his cycle, but he still felt the gnawing emptiness. He badly needed the reassurance and comfort from an alpha. It wasn't remotely rational, but he couldn't control it either. His time in the army had allowed him to forget the realities of being omega. The awakening was certainly a rude one.

“Speaking of my dear brother, he's likely to pop in here at any time. If you would prefer not to see him, I'd be happy to send him on his way.”

Something about Sherlock's words roused suspicion. “And why has Mycroft decided to call today?”

Sherlock sighed. “Something came up while you were indisposed. A minor government official has died in what is most likely not the hunting accident it was supposed to look like. The dead man is unfortunately the cousin and close friend of the Lord Cantwell who finds the situation quite distressing. The entire affair is tiresome, and Mycroft is insisting that I help. The only reason he wasn't over here sooner was because he couldn't be near you while you were in heat. Now that you're not....”

“I wondered if it was something to that effect.”

“Seeing you is undoubtedly an added advantage in coming.”

John had nothing to say to that. If he wanted to keep himself aloof and able to make rational thought out decisions, he knew he should avoid Mycroft until he had fully recovered from his heat. The thought made the empty feeling grow, so he continued sitting in his chair, sipping his tea, and trying not to feel as though he were falling apart. _This will pass, this will pass, you know this will pass._ He told himself firmly.

True to Sherlock's prediction, it wasn't long before the clatter of hooves and carriage wheels on cobblestone became audible through the detective's violin playing. Sherlock ignored the sound of the street door opening, the indistinct voices in the hall, and only bothered to put down the instrument when Mrs. Hudson opened the door to let them know they had a visitor.

John fought to quell the sudden fluttery feeling in his gut as soon as the distinct scent of alpha met his nose. “No need to look so hopeful.” Sherlock remarked. 

“Sherlock,” Mycroft began. His gaze fell on John. “John.” He greeted in a slightly softer voice before turning his attention back to his brother.

The ensuing conversation flowed around John as Mycroft talked, cajoled and commanded and Sherlock replied as tersely as possible. John's concentration was still shot, his body still tired and recovering, his emotions frayed.

“Fine, I'll look into it.” Sherlock finally capitulated. Whether because he was tired of Mycroft pestering him, or because the disinterest had only been feigned to annoy his brother, John couldn't be sure.

Mycroft took him by surprise as he crouched down in front of John's chair. “How are you feeling? You don't look well.”

“I'm fine.” John replied when he found his voice. “This was the first heat I've experienced since being sent overseas. It was a given that it would be worse than usual.”

Mycroft took the now empty cup and saucer from John's hand and set it to the side of the chair. Judging by his expression, he didn't seem to entirely believe John. He scrutinized the omega carefully before his gaze fell on John's wrist where his shirt sleeve had gotten pushed up a little, exposing the angry raw skin of his wrist. Mycroft took his hand and studied the damage the restraints had done.

“This is not acceptable.” He finally said.

John exhaled heavily. “It's the reality of being omega. It's no different than what many others go through.”

“But you don't have to.” Mycroft pointed out quietly.

John dropped his gaze, heart pounding in his chest as instinct began to overrule sense. He scooted up in his chair, slowly leaning forward so he could press his face to the crook of Mycroft's neck. He inhaled deeply, the alpha's scent having an immediate soothing affect. He did manage to bite back the embarrassing whine that started to well up. He was lonely, dammit! Lonely in a way that Sherlock's friendship couldn't fix.

“John, John...it's all right.” Mycroft's hands came up to rest on his back. 

Unmarried beta couples would never behave in this manner, would be shocked by it, but John wasn't a beta, and he felt starved for an alpha's touch. John stayed that way for a long moment before pulling himself together, shoving down the needy part like he was used to doing, and sitting up.

“Sorry, Mycroft. Perhaps my recovery is taking longer than I hoped.”

“There's no need to apologize. It's not something you can help.” He continued to study John intently, but to John's relief, didn't push further. “I'm glad to have had the chance to see how you are. I will make sure to call again soon, provided that work related matters don't throw us together before.” Mycroft gave him a genuine smile and patted his shoulder.

* * *

The next day found John returning to his duties as a doctor. He was still feeling fatigued from his ordeal, but a frantic summons to look into the condition of an omega girl couldn't be ignored. As it turned out, the problem was entirely predictable and not really a problem at all.

“She's going into heat.” John told the worried father. “It's a completely natural occurrence that all healthy omegas go through when they reach reproductive maturity. These times usually occur every three months, though the first year or so might be irregular and happen less often.”

“This can't be natural.” Hendleson said.

“It is, completely. It's the only time an omega can conceive a child. Don't believe anyone who tells you differently. Unfortunately, it is difficult on unmated omegas, and she'll be very vulnerable. There are symptoms to be aware of, that will tell you it's coming so you can keep her safe.” When it became apparent that Mr. Hendleson was willing to listen, John continued. “Her appetite will increase the week before heat begins. Heat cycles are taxing on the body, and once in heat, she won't want to eat. The day or so before she may notice that it becomes harder to concentrate. The skin may become oversensitive, and she will probably have trouble sleeping. She must be confined to the house at this point. The heat period will last around three days. After it has passed, she'll need bland, easy to consume food. Nothing rich. As her appetite returns, she can eat as normal. During the entire process, it is very important to make sure she drinks enough water.”

The mother still looked worried. “Our preacher thought she might be possessed.”

John bit back his annoyance. As foolish and irresponsible as their minister was, criticizing him would not endear him to Adel's family, and he needed them to listen. “There is absolutely nothing supernatural about your daughter's condition. I'm guessing your minister is a beta. If they don't have close family members who are alpha or omega, then it can be difficult to understand the physical differences and needs. This is nature's way of ensuring offspring. As difficult as these times might be, someday they will provide you grandchildren.” 

This seemed to ease some of the worry on the couple's faces. “If anything happens that causes you concern, please don't hesitate to send for me.” He continued.

“Thank you, Doctor Watson. You have no idea what a relief it is to have someone who knows.”

“I'm happy to be of assistance.”

On one hand John was pleased that the couple had enough sense to seek a medical opinion and were willing to consider what he had to say. On the other hand, their minister was spreading advice and information that was downright dangerous. The Church of England and the Catholic Church both accepted an omega's reproductive cycle as being a natural occurrence. However, there were smaller religious orders that clearly did not understand alpha and omega biology or behavior. Luckily they didn't reach a wide audience, but they could make life for their congregants difficult and unhealthy. If there were other omegas in the congregation, he hoped the Hendelson's would give them John's name. He also hoped for Miss Adel Hendelson's sake, that she would be able to easily find a mate. That thought, of course, brought him back around to Mycroft Holmes and his own difficulties.

* * *

It wasn't long before John found himself thrown together with Mycroft again as they journeyed to Blackthorne Hall to look into the matter of the untimely death of Cantwell's cousin. The house was a massive imposing affair. The drive perfectly manicured, the garden in front carefully planted and kept in such order that Mycroft would surely approve. John tried not to feel too out of place as they exchanged pleasantries, or rather Lord Cantwell looked down his nose at them while Sherlock made it clear that he was utterly unimpressed with both the man and the case.

“Come on John, what we're looking for isn't here.” He turned to Cantwell and Mycroft. “We'll need someone familiar with the rout the riders took, and I need to see where your cousin fell.”

“Certainly, my son rode with them that morning. He can take you around.” With that he disappeared to locate his errant offspring.

“Such a pleasant man.” John couldn't help but comment once their host was out of earshot.

“Yes, well, he does have his uses, therefor it's better to keep him at least somewhat happy.” Mycroft sighed. “You'll have better luck with the son. He's completely useless, but much more tractable.”

Martin Cantwell, the son, looked to be in his early twenties with a relaxed bearing and genial face. He many physical similarities with his father, but with the coldness removed. He also seemed perfectly happy to take them on a jaunt, finding the whole affair more exciting than anything else.

“I never knew Andrew that well.” He admitted as they walked back to the stable. “He was closer to my father's age and was rather a bore. I used to avoid him when he'd come and visit. This is the most excitement he ever brought to the place.” 

“And you ride?” John asked, finding the young man easy to talk to.

“Oh, yes! It's about the only thing worth doing around here. Bought a new mare just a few months ago. Brave as anything over fences. The sight of Andrew's untimely demise actually isn't that far away. If you don't mind a walk, it would probably be easiest.”

John's experience with horses being limited, he was relieved when Sherlock agreed to follow along on foot. It was cool, but reasonably dry, and John found himself enjoying the fresh air and physical activity. He realized it was the first day since his heat that he felt completely himself.

“I don't suppose other people found your cousin an obnoxious bore as well?” Sherlock asked.

John opened his mouth to scold his friend, but Martin just laughed. “He had his share of, well enemies seems too strong a word, but lets just say acquaintances that weren't very fond of him. There were also a lot of people who wanted on his good side, since he always had father's ear. Where we're going is just down through these trees. This fence used to be part of an old property line before grandfather added the farm that was here to the estate. The fence is what did my cousin in. He couldn't fall enough away from the horse. I didn't much like him, but it couldn't have been a nice way to go, poor sod, having a half ton of horse land on you.”

The temperature dropped under the shade of the trees, and John shivered. The last jump Andrew Cantwell ever aimed a horse at stood just ahead. It was certainly forbidding. If it had just been the log, it wouldn't have been quite so intimidating, but other large branches and piles of brush had joined it, and the land dropped a little on the other side. Sherlock closely examined the obstacle as well as the path leading up to it as well as the landing side. For his part, John couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. For all the the jump was large, the ground leading up to it was fairly even as well as on the landing side. On closer inspection, not even the drop was that steep

“Interesting, see these marks here, John?” 

John moved to stand beside Sherlock. At first he didn't see, then with an impatient huff, his friend pointed to a thin groove on the fence beside the brush pile. It looked as if something had been tied around it, leaving a mark. “I'm afraid I don't quite understand.” Martin commented.

“You wouldn't.” Sherlock sighed. “Look, it would be easy enough to bring the horse down with a wire. All the murderer had to do was fix one end to the fence, lay in wait on the other side where there's plenty of brush to hide in, and as the rider came over the jump, raise the wire causing the horse to fall. Of course it's not the most sure fire way of killing someone. The killer would have to be certain the hunt would come this way and that he would take the jump rather than go around the path on the other side.”

“Well, he was a show off – there's no way he'd take the easy rout, and to be fair, his horse was a good one.” Martin replied. 

“The dogs follow the fox's scent, correct?”

“Hounds.” Martin corrected. “And yes.”

“But it would be possible to lure them a particular way if you had the means to make a trail that smelled like fox.”

“I don't see why not. You'd just have to drag something along that smelled strongly of fox. Actually, we have old Reggie here.”

“Who or what, may I ask, is 'old Reggie?' Sherlock asked dubiously.

“Reginald. He's a fox the groundskeeper found injured as a pup. Ended up nursing him back to health and making a pet of him. You don't suppose someone used Reginald's leavings, do you?”

“I would say that is a very likely possibility. Where is he kept?”

“In back of the game keeper's cottage near the front of the estate. You passed it when you came in, though you wouldn't have seen if from the drive. It's set back in the trees a bit. It was the original house that went with the old farm the fence belonged to.” Martin explained, seemingly impressed that Reggie the fox had been used as part of a murder weapon.

“I would suggest checking the horse for signs of scrapes or cuts that could have been made by a wire or thing rope. How did Andrew get on with the groundskeeper, or would other people have access to Reggie?”

Sherlock turned and started to walk back the way they had come. Martin thought for a moment. “I don't know really. I never saw them interact with each other. I suppose anyone who really wanted to could get to Reggie, granted there's the dog. A big sweetheart if he knows you, terribly frightening if he doesn't.”

“I'll need to have a word with your groundskeeper then.”

Though John found the complexity of the murder interesting, Sherlock was disappointed by it's quick conclusion. The answer had been the game keeper's daughter, Nan, who had unfortunately caught Andrew's eye much to her dismay and her fiance's fury. The young man had decided to make sure Andrew would be in no position to bother Nan again. He just hadn't quite counted on Andrew's actual dying. He had only hoped to maim him enough to keep him home.

John couldn't help but feel a little sorry for the young man seeing how cousin Andrew had been more than just an arrogant lout. Mycroft pulled him aside as they were about to leave.

“I'm glad to see you feeling better. I was wondering if you might accompany me to the theatre on Thursday evening. I'm sure we could both use the distraction.”

The theatre, a nice public place to spend time with a love interest. Surrounded by other people, no one could call one's virtue into question, sparing the need for a chaperon. He could only imagine hauling Sherlock with them, though perhaps Anthea would be the better choice. He suppressed the urge to giggle at the picture that presented. Well, a night out could hardly hurt. “Yes, fine. Thursday night, then.”

Mycroft broke into a smile. “Excellent. I'll see you then, take care.”

John nodded in reply before catching up with Sherlock who was impatient to be gone. He asked himself what he thought he was doing, but he knew full well even if it was uncomfortable to admit.


	4. Public Outings and Private Misbehavings

Walking into a public venue on someone's arm was a new experience for John. Not an entirely unpleasant one by any means, but it was hard not to feel at least a little self conscious. He began to relax when he saw another omega – a dapper little gentleman speaking to a knot of young ladies under the fond gaze of his alpha. The females fluttered about carefully dressed and coiffed, and they reminded John of a flock of song birds. Though in the bird world, it was the male who donned the bright colors to attract a mate.

John was introduced to several people he had never seen before, a reminder that he and Mycroft moved in very different circles. They regarded him with some curiosity, but with no apparent judgment. Though decent, the performance wasn't half as interesting as Mycroft's knowledge of the people sitting around them who, it turned out, were not nearly so respectable as they tried to appear whether it be crooked business dealings, affairs, or illegitimate children. In the case of one well bred looking couple in the box below and to the right of them, it was all three.

“And see that young lady, there?” Mycroft quietly directed his attention to a rather pretty looking girl with dark hair and a string of pearls about her long graceful neck. “She is affianced to Nathaniel Greene whose father I happen to know through my line of work. It's unfortunate. The parents want to unite their two houses, but she is a beta and the son an alpha.”

John blinked. “And how is that going to work out?”

“Not well, I should think. There's no reason he can't father a child with her, but their needs are very different, and a female beta is quite far from a male omega. That's the other issue, you see. The father is terribly socially conservative and has been listening a little too hard to the family's minister. The minister, I fear, is interested in the family's patronage. While the father has some sense with money and business, he has a large blind spot in this area.”

“So the minister has convinced him that his son has to marry a woman? Why not at least a female omega?”

“There aren't very many, so he'd probably have to marry below his class. That's never been an issue in the case of alpha's - it's a given that we draw from a smaller pool of prospective mates, but again, his father isn't seeing sense. I fear the poor girl is going to end up disappointed. I also don't like that this supposed man of God is gaining so much influence over someone with a fair amount of political clout.”

John gazed down at the girl who was leaning in to quietly speak to her friend. He felt a pang for both her and the unfortunate man. He wondered if she understood the situation she was about to find herself in. Granted, there were many other factors besides love that helped determine marriages, but to begin with no chance of building something better. To court eventual bitterness, resentment and very possibly infidelity on the side of the young man. It did put his own situation into some sort of perspective. As different in many ways as he and Mycroft were, they still had common ground and mutual interests. They understood each other's needs and instincts and could satisfy them.

He breathed deeply, trying not to be obvious that he was inhaling the soothing scent of contented alpha. He didn't remember when Mycroft's scent had become a thing of comfort, but there it was, he enjoyed being in close proximity to the man. It was nice to see him in a situation that didn't involve his profession or his brother. 

By the time they had climbed back into the carriage, John couldn't help but feel that the night had been worth it. Mycroft's warm hand reached over to touch his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. He waited a moment, as if to see whether or not John would pull away. When he didn't, Mycroft delicately touched his lips to John's in a series of light, teasing kisses. John froze for a moment as two sides warred. It still felt a little surreal to be kissing Mycroft Holmes, but those thoughts were soon shouted down by the relief that Mycroft was in fact, kissing him.

The interior of the carriage smelled of dusty upholstery, oiled wood, alpha scent and Mycroft's cologne. His lips were as soft as the fingers that held John's chin in place. The tip of Mycroft's tongue briefly brushed against his bottom lip, making John shiver. He paused for a moment, poised inches from John's mouth before pressing their lips together firmly. 

“Open your mouth, John. Let me in.”

The quiet command in those words made his cheeks and loins heat. It never occurred to him to deny Mycroft his request. Mycroft's tongue slid against his own, and John found himself unable to fully suppress the moan that welled up. John's reaction only spurred the other man on, and he first caught Johns lower lip gently between his teeth so he could run his tongue over the plush surface. He then released his lip only to capture John's tongue and give it a suck. 

John was panting, his body suffused with warmth. Mycroft caught his chin again, so he couldn't look away. “You're lovely like this John. If we weren't in this carriage, I'd strip you naked, and bounce you on my lap till you came all over yourself. Unfortunately, this is neither the time or place, so this will have to suffice.” And he began to slowly, carefully take John apart with his lips, his tongue and his teeth. Deep kisses that left John gasping and moaning into his mouth, light nips along his jaw and the soft press of lips just beneath his ear. 

Mycroft carefully loosened John's tie and unbuttoned the top buttons to bare his throat. John immediately lifted his chin, inviting Mycroft to scent and mark him. In omega body language, offering his neck was offering his body. Mycroft growled low and placed a line of gentle kisses down his throat until he found a spot normally hidden by the shirt collar that he could suck. Soft 'ohs' escaped John. This was everything he needed. Perhaps not everything, but it was a good start. Or at least that's how the omega part thought about the situation. His rational mind, the part of him that wasn't heat, and need, and animal instinct was less sure of himself. However, there was no denying that Mycroft's attentions felt good.

He sighed again as Mycroft's mouth met his own, the warm weight of his hand pressed against John's thigh. “I wish I could send you home with a belly full of my seed.” Mycroft sighed, sitting up and giving John's thigh a gentle squeeze. He buttoned John's collar, fixed his tie, and smoothed the front of his jacket. “How long has it been since anyone has touched you?” He asked, voice suddenly serious.

It took a moment for John to find his voice. “What are you implying, exactly?”

“Come now, Doctor, it is not the same for us as it is for betas, as I know you are well aware. It's easy for religious men to preach about morality when their instincts are so deadened that they can't respond to a potential mate.”

“I suppose that's one way to see betas. I think I've done fairly well on my own.” John continued to evade. 

Mycroft just gave him a look. “Considering the circumstances, you have. However, there's no doubt it isn't good for you. You shouldn't have to suffer heat cycle after heat cycle.”

John leaned his head back against the seat, and realized they had stopped moving. He reached out and briefly pressed his hand to Mycroft's upper arm. 

“I'll see you to your door.”

John picked up his hat, a mess of mixed emotions and frustrated desire. His trousers still felt tight in the aftermath of Mycroft's amorous onslaught. The night air was still chilly, the foggy damp changing the familiar cityscape into something new. The cool air helped clear his head and shake off some of his physical reaction. 

Mycroft turned to him when they reached the door, and clasped his hand. “I hope you had an enjoyable evening.”

“Yes, yes I did. Thank you.” John was surprised to find that his answer was completely honest. He made his way into the quiet house knowing the chance of Sherlock being at home and awake were fifty fifty. He wasn't sure he wanted to answer questions about the night's outing. Sherlock would probably deduce that they had misbehaved because his tie was slightly askew, or some other ridiculous detail. The house was quiet however, and he made his way to his room without being intercepted by curious landladies or flatmates.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Mycroft's mouth, his touch, his rather filthy language. That had been a surprise. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Mycroft was right. The thought of struggling through heat again, even with Sherlock's assistance, filled him with dread. Was it such a terrible thing to want to be touched? To feel safe? To not want to go through the humiliation of being restrained like an animal? He undressed and carefully put away his clothing, by far the best he owned, in favor of a soft night shirt.

He slid under the blankets but stayed sitting up, the lamp on the bedside table still burning, casting a warm pool of light where he sat. He thought of his young patient, Adel, and her parents struggling to find her a mate. He sighed and turned down the lamp. Sherlock had said something about a case, hopefully that meant some distraction tomorrow.

* * *

Mycroft sat in the peaceful silence of the Diogenes Club, his mind filled with the little omega, his excellent memory allowing him to examine the salient points of the night before. Matters had progressed farther than he had intended, and he was aware that he had not exactly behaved as a gentleman was expected to do. However, he truly believed that alphas and omegas trying to behave like betas was self defeating. Besides, John needed to reconnect with the omega side that had been long suppressed. The man was not a cloistered virgin anyway. He had just never had the opportunity to live as an omega.

Understanding societal expectations and knowing how to work within them was a necessity if one wanted to get anywhere in life. Unfortunately, too many social mores were built on an incomplete understanding of those who fell outside of the majority. An alpha's instinctive drives were simply stronger, and omegas had greater need for physical affection. Trying to live as the 'proper' betas lived was a recipe for unhappiness and ill health.

Mycroft's only concern was that in the light of day, John might harbor discomfort or regrets regarding their behavior in the carriage. However, from what he knew of John, the man was neither uptight or prudish. He could deduce with some certainty that his next meeting with the omega would not be awkward. Besides, physical encounters aided bonding. Traditionally, a pair became bonded on the omega's first heat following the engagement. The reality was a little different. That first heat sealed the couple together, but it was the culmination of a longer process as the partners grew accustomed to each other's scent. Some men of science, including his brother, believed that there was a chemical reaction that brought a pair together, something related to the all important sense of smell. There was no way to prove it beyond a doubt, but Mycroft admitted that it made sense. The more time they spent in close physical proximity, the greater the likelihood John would come to accept him as a mate. That much was certain.

* * *

Several days passed before John came face to face with the elder Holmes brother. He had just finished his morning cup of tea when the sound of footsteps on stairs and muffled voices alerted him to the presence of a visitor. His first thought was that it someone had come to see Sherlock about a case, but when the door opened, it was Mycroft who stepped inside.

“Sherlock will be back soon.” John attempted to look like Mycroft's presence wasn't affecting him, but finding himself alone with the alpha sent a shiver through his belly and made his heart beat faster. He suspected that Mycroft was well aware of this. He was not an easy man to fool. John shook himself out of his frozen state. “Here, sit. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, John, but I'm fine.” Ignoring the invitation to sit, he took several steps closer to John. For his part, John moved closer without even thinking about where his feet were carrying him.

“And how are you?” Mycroft's fingers lightly touched the underside of his chin, tilting his face upwards. He leaned down a little, seeming to wait for John's reaction.

“I'm well, thank you.” John made no move to pull away, his gaze flickering to Mycroft's lips.

Mycroft chuckled softly before covering John's mouth with his own. John's eyes closed, and in doing so his other senses seemed to heighten – the alpha's distinctive warm spicy scent, the texture of the brocade waistcoat under his hand. He tasted a little of tea, and the heat of his mouth both aroused and comforted. Mycroft broke the kiss in favor of nuzzling against John's cheek. He rubbed against what little skin was available. John couldn't help but be a little regretful at the amount of fabric in between them. He was then pulled snugly against the taller, lean body of the alpha. 

John breathed out slowly through his nose, feeling tension he didn't know he was carrying run out of him. He simply leaned against Mycroft and allowed himself to be held. Sherlock's return broke the peaceful moment.

“Oh, brother dear. I leave John alone for less than an hour, and I find you mauling him.”

John opened an eye. “Good morning, Sherlock.”

“Good morning, John.” 

“I'm hardly mauling him. I stopped by to see how you were.” Mycroft made no move to release John from his grasp.

“To see John, you mean. John, you do realize that he's putting his scent all over you.”

“I'm aware of that, thank you.” He nosed against Mycroft's chest, inhaling the calming scent.

“I had intended to call on both of you. You weren't here.”

“Giving you the opportunity to maul John.” Sherlock collapsed on to the sofa.

With a sigh, Mycroft slowly released him, sliding his hands down his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead. John blinked, feeling a little dazed. He managed to make it over to his chair and sink down on to it's welcoming surface. 

“Fascinating.” Sherlock declared, watching John intently. “The effect of an alpha's scent creates a strong reaction. It is suggestive of some type of chemical trigger. How do you feel, John?”

“Sherlock,” he sighed. “I'm not a laboratory animal for you to experiment on.”

“I was merely observing you. It's hard not to considering I walked in to find you in my brother's arms. It's clear you really do need a chaperon.”

John closed his eyes. He was positive Sherlock was joking. Or mostly positive. “Are you volunteering?”

“Of course not.”

“My sense of relief is overwhelming.” Mycroft cut in. “If John carries my scent, other alphas will think twice before bothering him.”

Sherlock's gaze flicked back to his friend. “Has this been an issue? Are you being harassed?”

John opened his eyes and sat in silence for a long moment. “I've become adept at avoiding alphas in situations that could be dangerous. It's something all omegas learn. There is a tendency for alpha males to treat me with over familiarity. Unless they are bonded themselves.” He amended. “Maturity also seems to play a role. Think Lestrade. Don't growl Mycroft, the point is that Lestrade is safe.”

Sherlock continued to regard him over steepled fingers. John supposed he was trying to decide whether or not he was being truthful. John was of course, or at least he was as upfront as he could be. Admittedly, the realities of being an omega were as familiar to John as his well worn shoes. At one time, the social restrictions necessary for safety angered him. Now he spared them little thought. It was second nature to avoid situations where he could be harassed. When he went out and about on his own it was mostly to see patients, and in those situations, he was being dropped off at their doorstep by a cab. When he went out socially, it was with Sherlock or occasionally Lestrade. Though alpha, the older detective inspector was mature and in control of his impulses. He had no need to prove his virility and treated John no differently than he would any other male friend. More recently, Mycroft had become a companion, and his attentions were welcome. John was certain that Mycroft Holmes was a patient man who wouldn't push him to the point he felt threatened.

“Hmmm,” was Sherlock's only response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent a lot of time looking up Victorian sex related terms, but as entertaining as it was, I couldn't find anything that seemed quite right. Still, my search history is becoming more and more interesting, lol.
> 
> I will be adding some additional tags for the next chapter. The scene in question is not really bad - I mean, John is a man you underestimate at your own risk. He's pretty good at taking care of himself. Still, just a little heads up if you're very sensitive. 
> 
> I guess that's it for notes. As always, thanks to everyone who has read, commented, subscribed, and left kudo's - I really appreciate the support and hope you continue to enjoy : )


	5. A Study in Contrasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John finds himself in a bad situation (and this is a bit of a warning to you, lovely readers), but he is an omega not to be underestimated.

John climbed down from the cab a short walk from the home of his young patient, Adel. Her heat had gone, and she should be well recovered, or at least that's what John hoped to find. He also wanted to ascertain whether or not her family was still listening to the minister that had given them potentially dangerous advice regarding their daughter. The house had once been impressive, but had been split up to accommodate several families. Still, it was far from a tenement. If nothing else, the Hendelson's had the means to care for their daughter.

Adel was seated on her bed reading a book. She looked up quickly when John walked in, her expression a mixture of shyness and embarrassment. John tried to reassure her with a warm smile. “Miss Hendelson, how are you feeling?”

“Oh, I'm all right now.” She looked like she wanted to say something else, but didn't know how.

“There's no need to be embarrassed about what happened. It was only a heat cycle. They aren't pleasant, but they're completely normal. It actually means you're healthy. I went through one just recently myself.”

“I suppose you would.” Adel replied with an air of surprise. “I only sort of remember you from before.” She eyed him curiously now, a rather pretty teenage girl with dark hair and a sweet face.

“How's your appetite?” He took her fine boned wrist and pressed his fingers to her pulse point.

“Normal now. I couldn't eat much for a few days after. I think I gave Mummy and Daddy a fright.”

“Well, they weren't expecting it. Your pulse is normal. Any over sensitivity to touch or trouble sleeping?” Her scent seemed normal. An alpha or omega's scent could change subtly due to illness or strong emotions such as arousal or fear. This was something a beta physician could never pick up. 

She shook her head. “It's as if nothing happened. This won't happen often, will it?”

“It might not for a year or so. After that it'll be around every three months unless you're carrying a child. Three days is the average duration with mild symptoms beginning up to a week before.”

She inhaled deeply when she though he wasn't looking, then glanced down at his left hand. “You smell like an alpha, but you don't have a ring. Do you have a mate?”

It wasn't really an appropriate question, but John had a feeling he knew why Adel was asking about his private life. She had been through a difficult experience, the first of many. Without a mate to help her through, her future would hold an endless repetition of the past week. She was looking for reassurance. If he, Doctor Watson, could find a mate, then maybe she could too. There was also a strong likelihood that she didn't know many omegas her own age.

“No, but I'm being courted. He's the brother of a good friend.” 

She perked up at this. “How excited you must be! I hope I can find someone.”

John had to smother a laugh. She was treating him a bit like a female friend, but then society often didn't quite know how to categorize male omegas. They existed in some sort of limbo between male and female. Of course he was very much male, but society liked neat little boxes, and there was nothing neat about being an omega. “Well, there aren't that many omegas, and alphas will almost always choose to mate with an omega, so you won't have as much competition.” 

This seemed to cheer her immensely. “You seem to be a perfectly healthy young lady.”

Overall, his visit to Miss Hendelson left him pleased. He was glad to see her well and that her parents had clearly followed his advice. There was a real need for doctors well versed in the health concerns of omegas, and a fellow omega was really the best person for that role. An omega could read scent cues a beta would never be able to pick up and could better relate to the needs of omega patients. An omega would be able to see through conflicting information and pseudoscience often presented erroneously as fact. Unfortunately, the medical profession wasn't quick to catch on. John was an anomaly, one of the rare few that had attained a status above nurse. 

He was deep in thought as he stepped out of the building and onto the street, the foggy weather and sinking sun creating a gloomy atmosphere. Though visibility had become quite a bit poorer since he had arrived at the Hendelson's, John could always tell if there were alphas and omegas near him by smell. It was information he gathered unconsciously, and in the case of unknown alphas, it served as a valuable signal. Which was why John was utterly unprepared for the heavy hand that grasped his upper arm and hauled him aside – the man who accosted him was certainly a beta. The building next door to the Hendelson's and the house beside it created a narrow alleyway in between, and John found himself manhandled into it. If he had been aware of the person and hadn't been weighed down by his bag, it was likely that he would have been able to escape. Unfortunately, he found himself pressed against the wall by a heavier body. He had the immediate impression of grubby clothing and a strong physique, someone who performed physical work for a living.

“Let go of me right now.” John snarled.

“No need to be in a hurry, now.” His captor said in a low voice. “You're a brave one, aren't you? Out wandering all alone without your alpha. Or maybe you don't have an alpha? You don't, do you.” He gripped John tighter as he struggled. 

“If you don't let me go right this instant!”

He promptly found himself being slammed back against the wall, receiving a bump on the head. John froze, the seriousness of his situation hitting him. If he had cracked his head hard enough, it could have incapacitated him long enough for...

“Now be a good lad and behave yourself, and maybe I'll give you something in return.” His face split into a leer.

_So that's what this is about._ John felt a spike of genuine fear, all the worse because it was so unexpected. _A beta._ He thought, appalled. Alphas at least had the sorry overblown excuse of their instincts. This man didn't even have that. John started to yell, and then stopped, afraid it could lead to another blow to the head.

He leaned in, pressing against John again. “I heard male omegas get wet just like women. Is that true, little man?”

John knew he was going to have to be smart. His captor was bigger, heavier, and physically fit, and John was unarmed. Instead of continuing to struggle, he shrank back, letting himself seem afraid, which wasn't an act at that point. However, John had long ago learned to act despite fear. He was not a man to freeze up in a dangerous situation. Luckily, the beta didn't know that. He only saw an omega, alone, smaller than he was, and he assumed. 

Acting on nothing but assumption led to mistakes as John's would be attacker soon learned. He leaned forward shoving his face into John's and promptly found himself headbutted, a knee in his groin and teeth sinking into his arm. He was caught so off guard that he let go of John, momentarily stunned. John took the opening to shove past him and dart out of the alley and run as fast as he could towards the hansom just up the street. He realized then that he had lost his hat, but somehow managed to keep hold of his bag.

John felt more than shaken. He had faced a war zone, seen horrendous things while serving in Afghanistan, yet found himself ill prepared to deal with the sexual aggression aimed at his person. That hadn't been a matter of disrespectful comments or crowding into his personal space. That was a very real threat. If it hadn't been for his army training combined with the fact that most people underestimated him physically, the situation could have ended very differently.

His very first thought was that he wanted Mycroft, the instinctive part of himself seeking the protection and comfort of a mate. Without even thinking, he gave the cabby the address of Mycroft's London house. He knocked at the door, but when it opened he suddenly felt foolish standing there with his Gladstone in one hand looking, well, he couldn't have looked good.

“Is Mr. Holmes in?” John asked, handing the domestic staff his card. At least his voice sounded even. A small consolation at best.

“I'm sorry, sir, but he's out. He should be back in a few hours, if you would like to wait.” The door was opened wider to admit entrance. John had the suspicion that Mycroft had made it known to his staff that John was welcome there. Or perhaps the man remembered him from the time he had stopped in with Sherlock.

He hesitated for a moment before stepping through the door. He was led to the drawing room and instructed to make himself comfortable. Now he felt even more foolish, but decided it would look even stranger if he decided to up and leave. Besides, the servant had carried his bag off somewhere, so he sat down gingerly on a reasonably comfortable looking chair and resigned himself to wait. Just when he was about to hunt down his bag and head home, Anthea bustled in carrying a folio.

“Hello, Doctor Watson. Holmes will be along shortly.” She seemed unsurprised to find him there.

“Oh, I was just considering leaving. Will you tell him I called?”

“Oh, don't be silly. He'll want to see you.” And with that, she disappeared in the direction of the study. He watched her go, the bustle of her dress swaying behind her. He thought, not for the first time, that she was a very odd woman. He sank back down onto the chair wondering why he had come, but at the same time not really wanting to go.

Mycroft's voice brought him back to the present. “John? I'm sorry you had to wait. I was at the club clearing up some business.” John stood awkwardly. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”

The simple concern in Mycroft's voice threatened to undo the wall that held everything back. It took very real effort to keep his voice even and unaffected. “I'm sorry, it's not as important as I'm making it. I should be able to handle it on my own, I did handle it on my own, actually.”

Mycroft crossed the room, and soon his arms wrapped around John. “Don't be ridiculous. You smell of fear. What happened?”

John disengaged himself reluctantly from Mycroft so he could sit down to tell the story. He felt himself flush by the end of it, his emotions a mix of anger at his attacker, embarrassment as he second guessed himself and his need to run to an alpha, and the sick shaken feeling when he thought how very wrong the entire situation could have gone. 

“He didn't hurt you, did he.” If John smelled of fear, Mycroft's scent was spiky with anger. 

“No, just a few bumps and bruises. I'm fine, and there was no reason for me to bother you with this. I feel sort of silly now.”

“There's no reason to feel silly, and you're always welcome here. And you aren't all right. You're shaking.” He reached out and began gently stroking John's hair in a soothing fashion. “Would you be able to describe the man?”

“Possibly. I'm not sure how much good it would do. Unfortunately, I was going out alone, and I'm afraid many would view that as bringing it on myself.”

“That is ridiculous. You're an adult with a profession. You should be able to do your job. And if he did this to you, he will probably do the same to others. You said your patient was an omega – don't assume he was interested in you because you were male. Some target omegas in general operating under the assumption that they are weaker or too wanton to refuse their demands. If you would like to write a note to the girl's parents warning them of the potential danger, I can have it delivered. All you would have to say is that there is a man in that area harassing omegas.”

John took a deep breath and nodded. He scribbled a quick note. There was no need for details, just a general warning that their daughter shouldn't step out alone. He handed it to Mycroft, suddenly feeling very weary from the earlier fight and the emotional response.

“You will stay here, of course. A guest room has already been prepared for you.”

John started to decline, but Mycroft placed a finger to his lips. “Let me show you that I can take care of you.” Almost immediately sensing John's next objection with unerring accuracy, he continued, “I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but the point is, you don't have to this time.”

“Sherlock is expecting me back.”

“I can send him a message.”

They stood just looking at each other for several long moments in an odd sort of standoff. The trouble was, John didn't really _want_ to leave. He was tired and didn't feel like being strong at the moment. The day had become surreal, and it seemed ages ago since he was dropped off at the Hendelson's doorstep. “I'll stay.”

John lay curled on his side, tucked between soft, clean sheets and blankets, and staring at the window overlooking the street. It was a fact of life that omegas had to guard against inappropriate conduct from others. He had been aware of that since he presented at the age of fourteen. He had come out of the ordeal relatively unscathed, yet it had shaken him more than he liked to admit. In the past, he had been forced to deal with lewd behavior from young, unmated alphas. However, he couldn't remember ever feeling so physically threatened before. In the army, he had taken suppressants, therefore preventing heat cycles that would have set off any nearby alphas. The betas there couldn't smell him to know what he was, and the alphas had other things to worry about. In an odd way, many had treated him with a sort of pride that an omega had managed to accomplish what he had. Though relations between alphas and omegas could be complicated, when it came to the rest of the world, they were all the same 'people.' Both existed outside of the majority, both dealt with instincts and urges that betas barely felt. When push came to shove, it tied them together. The alphas he had served with had been glad to have him there, because it proved alphas and omegas had a rightful place in society.

Then he had come home, and things weren't so clear cut. There was no brother-in-arms status to help pave his way. He no longer had access to suppressants, and his biology threatened to over run his life. He was one ordinary omega in a teeming city, so why should a passing male beta think anything of him? He was having to prove himself all over again, and today's scrape seemed to ram home the point that he was just one, average, barely middle class, unmated omega whose existence held little value. Except to Sherlock, and Mrs. Hudson, and Mycroft and Miss Adel Hendelson, and Lestrade had become a friend as well for that matter. He did have a life here, but at the moment he was finding the struggle exhausting.

He stretched, finding himself starting to drift towards sleep in the borrowed pair of pyjamas that had been thoughtfully laid out for him on the bed much nicer than his own. When he woke the next morning, he found himself safe and comfortable in Mycroft's embrace, John's back pressed against his front. His first thought was that he must have been truly exhausted to not have woken up, his second a vague sense of amusement at himself for not caring more than he did. It was pleasant to feel the rise and fall of Mycroft's chest and belly as he breathed, to feel the warmth of the larger body behind him, to wake up and not be alone. 

_You could have this every morning._ The traitorous thought wriggled seductively into his brain. He wasn't sure when Mycroft had crawled into bed with him – if he had joined him on coming up stairs, or whether he had risen early and come in to check on him. Either way, there was something rather touching about Mycroft simply joining him in sleep. There had been no demand for physical intimacy, he had clearly made an effort not to wake John up. Mycroft provided a sharp contrast to the man in the alley. He had made it very clear that he wanted John physically, but never would he take what wasn't freely given. To him, John was mate material, not a cheap plaything. 

John wanted to roll over and nuzzle into his pyjama clad chest, so he could breath in more of his warm alpha scent. _Why are you even fighting this? A nice life, with companionship, someone to help you through the rougher parts of being omega, someone who won't make you give up having a career._ At least he didn't think Mycroft would ask that of him. He had never said or done anything to suggest anything of the sort. _Does it matter that this nice package comes from someone unexpected? He may have his faults, but so do you. So does everyone._

He carefully rolled over, trying not to wake his bed mate. Mycroft stirred, and shifted to better cuddle John, as the omega snuggled against him. John ran a hand down the lengthy torso and back up, feeling the jut of Mycroft's hip, the slide of soft, skin warmed fabric over flesh. He needed to touch and be touched, badly. It was a most neglected need, the depth of which most betas didn't understand. Feeling bold, he slid a hand under Mycroft's shirt to stroke his soft belly with it's little bit of extra flesh.

“Good morning, John.” Mycroft greeted him softly, a sleep clumsy hand rubbing his back.

“Mmmmm.” John snuggled more firmly against the long, warm body. Mycroft was returning the favor and running his hand slowly over John's shoulders, back, and ribs as if cataloging his exact proportions. Finally, in danger of an embarrassing physical reaction, John shifted a little apart. “When did you come in?” He asked, genuinely curious.

“I had some trouble sleeping last night, so I was up rather late. I peeked in to check on you and ended up laying down here instead. Your presence is wonderfully calming.” 

John's gaze kept drifting to Mycroft's lips, a fact not lost on Mycroft. He smiled, “if you want to kiss me, you are more than welcome.”

“For someone so prim and proper, you don't think much of sexual behavior.”

“Why should I? People kiss each other. People have sex. Alphas and omegas mate. It's a fact of life that not even the lower order of animals are free from, my brother excluded.”

“Are you suggesting that Sherlock is a lower animal?” John couldn't help, but tease.

“Not at all, just that some how he has managed to exempt himself from his natural drive in that area. I just don't see the point in treating it like it's something shameful. We're two adults of sound mind in a private home. It's not like we're frolicking naked in the street.”

“I should hope not.” John had moved slowly closer so that now he could rub his nose against Mycroft's. “You wouldn't expect me to give up having a profession, to give up helping Sherlock with his cases?”

“Of course not. I thought I made that clear before. You have the credentials, you should make use of them. And you've been very good for my brother. I would expect you to have a care, if you were carrying my pup inside you, but as a doctor, I'm sure you know enough not to put your child in danger.”

Satisfied with the answers, he brushed the tip of his tongue over Mycroft's lips, and when he parted them, John touched his tongue to Mycroft's. He settled down to business then, covering Mycroft's mouth and kissing him deep and slow. He took his time, enjoying the sensations of his body as his belly tightened and flesh heated. Mycroft didn't attempt to wrest control of the kiss from him, seemingly content to enjoy John's attentions.

Mycroft, for his part, hadn't forgotten what had brought John to his home to begin with. He didn't want to remind John of yesterday's ordeal and was content to let him set the pace of the encounter. Besides, he wasn't about to complain about being kissed silly by John. Kissed silly by John, in bed with far less clothing between them. He shifted his body, seeking more contact with John's lower half. Oh, and if that wasn't lovely, the little omega was hard against him. 

Mycroft rolled his hips so that he ground against John's erect cock. He felt John gasp and twitch, so he repeated the movement. John broke the kiss, mouth resting against Mycroft's jaw and moaned, grinding his hips into Mycroft so that they were moving against each other in the most delicious way.

“That's perfect, John.” Mycroft gasped out. He placed soft, gentle kisses over John's throat, being careful not to mar any skin that would be visible. It may have been instinct to lay claim to his mate with teeth, but he simply didn't have that right yet. To send John out with a visible symbol of his claim when they were not yet bonded, would risk John's reputation. Mycroft's staff had been well vetted and proven trustworthy. They could roll around in bed together knowing that what happened would stay between themselves, but not if Mycroft didn't take care with the handling of John's sensitive neck.

Instead he pushed up the back of John's top enough to bare the skin of his lower back. Mycroft lightly ran his fingernails over the naked flesh, making John arch and groan. He made the most fascinating, obscene noises when sexually aroused, and Mycroft was captivated. He seized John's hips, stilling and lifting him enough to rob him of the friction.

“I want to make you come, but not like this.” Mycroft purred. He let one hand stray so it could stroke the now exposed strip of skin along John's lower belly. As he drew his hand away he let his fingertips gently brush against his clothed erection. John's eyes slid closed, and his hand found Mycroft's and brought it back to press against his groin. “You're beautiful, John.”

John gave a sigh of pleasure as Mycroft increased the pressure. “Want you.” He gasped out.

Mycroft took this as permission to rid John of his sleep clothes now damp with sweat and fluids. He rolled John on to his back and made short work of the pyjamas before shedding his own. He gazed down at the well proportioned body sprawled out before him, lovely and fit, a scar marring the flesh of one shoulder.

“Oh, thank god.” John sighed with relief at being naked, one hand absently straying to caress a nipple.

Mycroft drank in the sensuous display, taking a cue from John's actions as to where he liked to be touched. He lowered himself down to place his mouth over the other little nub, sucking greedily, making John arch and buck. Warm hands gripped Mycroft's shoulders, gentle fingers threaded through his hair. 

“You like this, don't you.”

“God yes.” John replied, panting. He tugged at Mycroft to move up so he could kiss him again. Though he broke off shortly after in an attempt to roll over onto his belly so he could present his buttocks in what was classic omega mating posture. Mycroft lifted himself off to give John room to maneuver. He praised John's attractiveness, his eagerness, his rich omega scent. He would like to have positioned him in such a way that he could see his face, but he opted to let John situate himself how he was most comfortable considering that this was their first joining.

John lifted his rump, seeking Mycroft's groin. Mycroft gently squeezed the soft flesh of his cheeks before spreading them and running a finger down between and then dipping inside to test his lover's readiness. “So perfect, John.” 

“I need you, don't tease.” John ground out. 

“So eager for pleasure, aren't you?” He continued playing with John, enjoying the reaction he was getting, but he was starting to agree with him – he had taken long enough. 

“Rng! My!”

“All right, dearest.”

John gasped as Mycroft fully sheathed himself within his body. It felt _good_ , more than good. He had been intimate with other men from time to time, when he just couldn't stand it any longer, and his needs began to override all else. When that happened, he sought the companionship of an other omega, because a fellow omega understood and experienced the same thing. Plus there would never be an expectation of permanence or commitment, because a fellow omega could never provide what an alpha could.

Intimacy with an alpha was such a relief that John could almost have cried. It shouldn't have been different, sex was sex, and since he wasn't in heat, no knotting was involved. But it was different, it was _more_. Maybe Sherlock with his theories regarding chemicals was correct, John didn't know, but being mounted by an alpha was exactly what he needed. He whimpered, and moaned, and writhed, beside himself with pleasure, and his climax left him shaking and half senseless. And when Mycroft came inside him, John was filled with pride at having given pleasure to the alpha, _his_ alpha.

They lay in bed for awhile with Mycroft loosely draped over him. “We should get up.” John broke the stillness with some regret. “Eventually someone's going to come looking for you, and I need to clean up.”

Mycroft pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “Yes, I'm sure you're right.” He agreed, though he lingered for a little while longer, idly kissing and caressing, and John was loath to hurry him along.

* * *

By the time Sherlock showed up, John was clean, dressed, and had just finished breakfast. He still felt a little high from that morning, and was positive his friend would notice and say something. Sherlock, however, didn't comment on the fact that he and Mycroft had lain together. He simply watched him while he finished his tea, occasionally exchanging exasperated words with Mycroft until the elder Holmes was called away on business.

The anxiety of the day before had receded somewhat, supplanted by a settled feeling that he hadn't experienced since returning to England. Thinking back, he had known that he would eventually accept Mycroft's proposal. He had known since the ride in the carriage following the outing to the theatre. He suspected that Sherlock had known as well. He was simply too perceptive and too good at reading John to come to any other conclusion. Besides, as out of touch with social graces and uninterested in romantic relationships as Sherlock could be, John always felt that he understood the omega side of him far better than most betas. Perhaps it was having an alpha for a brother, or maybe because his views regarding morality were less dogmatic and driven by science rather than religion, but whatever the reason, John was truly grateful.

“It turns out the police actually did something right and caught the man committing the murders near the pier. Of course it took four deaths. You're distracted this morning, John.”

“Oh? I'm sorry.”

“No matter.” He paused. “I'm glad to see you well after your little adventure yesterday. Mycroft told me what happened.”

“Luckily, most people underestimate male omegas.”

“Still. I did happen to find out the name of your assailant. One Jeremiah Lockheed, aged 35 years. An odd jobs man with little romantic luck owing mostly to a wretched personality mixed with a tendency to drink away most of his money. He doesn't live near your patient, but happened to be doing some work for their neighbor. He often does jobs for them, so he had seen you before and taken notice. It is unlikely the police will do anything if you were to file a complaint, since there were no witnesses and you escaped without harm. However, Lockheed is easily receptive to intimidation, because he is mostly bravado.”

“Oh.” John set down his teacup. “And how did you figure all this out in such a short time?”

“Easily. I went to the nearest pub and asked about a man fitting his description complaining that he had behaved in an inappropriate manner to my sister. Men like him usually make a habit of unwanted advances. I was soon given a name and profession. It was obvious when I went to examine the scene of the crime, that the house next to the Hendelson's is undergoing repairs. I knocked on the door and inquired if they could suggest a repairman. They very helpfully gave me the same name making the rest abundantly clear. He will of course, be dealt with.”

“Now, if you are feeling up to it, we have a crime scene to examine.”

“Wait, Sherlock. Dealt with how?”

“Come now, John. Lockheed, being the utter fool that he is, has picked a territorial dispute with an alpha. It's to be expected that he will face consequences for his behavior, even if they are of an unofficial nature.” It was clear from John's face that he was struggling with the moral implications. “Look, the man is clearly a threat to others. Better for everyone if he learns a lesson now before he picks on someone without military training. Now are you ready to go? The crime scene can only wait for so long before someone comes along and tampers with it.”

John wordlessly rose and followed his friend. He attempted to set aside the events of the previous evening and that morning, but it was easier said than done. He couldn't quite shake his discomfort with the idea of Mycroft fighting his battles for him while on some level also understanding that this was a part of Mycroft's alpha nature. However, considering that Mycroft wasn't much for physical confrontation, his weapon of choice being his wits rather than fists, he couldn't help but worry at least a little. He also wasn't too keen on Sherlock knowing just how close the situation had come to being very bad for John, even though he knew it was irrational to feel that way. 

Sherlock didn't bring up Lockheed or Mycroft again, choosing to immerse himself in his work at a rather damp and confused murder scene. Where Mycroft was contained and collected, Sherlock was chaos. Two extraordinary men whose intellect manifested in very different ways. It took Sherlock less than five minutes to fall into an argument with an officer who had moved the body.

“I couldn't just leave it in plain sight now, could I?” He bellowed at the unimpressed Sherlock who was more interested in the crime scene being preserved than the neighbors' sensibilities. This was where Sherlock thrived, and in many ways, so did John. He had been a soldier too long for old habits to just dry up and blow away. Still, some balance would be nice, the feeling of stable ground beneath his feet.

“I need to speak to Mycroft.” John said, before Sherlock could give the driver their Baker Street address.

He sighed. “If you really must.”

“Yes, Sherlock, I really must.” John insisted. He needed to know what happened and that all was well, but he also needed to make certain that he and the elder Holmes brother fully understood one another. 

With a put upon expression, Sherlock had the cabby drive them to Mycroft's. “I'm sure you'll want this to be a private conversation. I'll wait here.”

This time Mycroft was at home when he knocked. The alpha looked well at least, but with one worry gone, his other feelings promptly came to the fore. “I told you I'm capable of taking care of myself.” John's voice sounded tighter than he intended. He didn't even know why it bothered him as much as it did. Perhaps it came from feeling as if he had to constantly prove himself as an omega, to never appear weak.

“Yes, I noticed.” Mycroft calmly replied with a quirk of an eyebrow, knowing immediately what had set the omega off. He thought for a moment before continuing. “Tell me, if someone threatened say, your sister, or Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock, or even myself, wouldn't you want to _do_ something about it?”

John huffed out a reluctant, “yes, of course.”

“This is no different. Besides, if this beta, Lockheed wants to play at being an alpha, he'd better learn what that means. I'm sure he found this afternoon quite...educational.”

John frowned, his other concern rushing back. “And you're all right?” For a moment, he thought he might have caused offense, but Mycroft just laughed.

“I'm not a fool, John. I know where my strengths lay. Lestrade joined me in case things should get out of hand. Better to scare some sense into him now than have to arrest him later after he really hurts someone.” He cupped John's face in his hands and lightly ran his lips across his forehead, down his nose and finally kissed the corner of his mouth. John relaxed into his touch, mollified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a difficult chapter to write - I found myself picking at some of these scenes a lot as I tried to decide just how the characters would react. I also didn't want John to appear too weak, I guess, but some situations would be disturbing to anyone. Hopefully it all came out all right.


	6. The Ties That Bind

“Sherlock,” John began, suddenly nervous.

“Yes?” The detective was peering through a magnifying glass at a scrap of fabric found at the crime scene.

“I have decided to accept Mycroft's proposal.”

“I'm aware.” He frowned. “This is expensive fabric. It had to have come from a high end shop.”

“Oh, good.” John replied with a distracted air. 

“You do realize this business regarding my brother was entirely predictable? It was clear you were going to agree to it the morning after your little excursion to the theatre. As long as you are well and happy.”

“I am, actually.” In fact, John felt as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Still, discussing it with Sherlock seemed a little strange, considering the brothers' often stormy relationship. However, his friend had taken everything well.

“Mummy will be thrilled. She likes you, you know, and God knows _I_ won't be carrying on the family name.”

Marriages between alphas and omegas were not performed in the same way as ceremonies between betas. Since bonding was not considered complete until the omega was bred and the bond bite administered, the true wedding didn't occur until heat and was naturally a completely private affair. Many couples forwent traditional ceremonies as they meant little. Instead it had become customary to hold an engagement party, inviting family and friends to properly recognize that intention of the alpha to take the omega as a mate. To mate without announcing one's intentions was considered suspect and a serious social faux pas. This was also the time when marriage contracts were drawn up and witnessed. After the party, it was customary for the omega to move into the alpha's home with the thinking that heat was not always predictable, and it was important for the alpha to be present when the time came. Social and religious mores demanded that the alpha and omega sleep in different rooms and not engage in intercourse beforehand, but that dictate was ignored by everyone but the most conservatively religious, though few would admit it openly.

The party was to be a small intimate affair held at the family home, Musgrave Hall. The upcoming event held one concern for John, and that was Harry. Naturally he had written his sister and told her the good news, and it was only right to invite her. He should have someone from his family present. But he found himself conflicted. On one hand he wanted to see her, on the other he had only her word that she had been staying away from drink. John wanted to believe her, but past experience allowed for nothing better than a very cautious optimism.

When the party rolled around, he first thought she wasn't going to show. This brought about its own mix of emotions, which he attempted to ignore by enjoying conversation with the other guests. He was in the midst of a discussion with Sherlock and Lestrade when his mother-in-law pulled him away.

“John, your sister's here to see you.” She smiled.

“Oh! Right.” He turned to see her standing a bit off from the rest wearing a neat sensible dress and looking much better than expected.

“Harry, I wasn't sure you were going to make it.”

She smiled a bit tentatively. “My brother is getting married. Of course I'm here, and I'm doing fine. I wanted you to see that – and I also need to apologize.”

“Apologize? For what?”

“For not being of more help when you came home. I just didn't know what to do. I wasn't in a very good place, and home wouldn't have been good for you. Father's only gotten worse, the house is a shambles...” her voice trailed off. “I recently found a position in a school – I was always good at reading and writing, and I can board there. My life's been much better since.”

“I'm just glad you're doing well. I didn't want you to end up like our father.”

She nodded with a small smile. “I know. I might not have wanted to hear your advice at the time, but I know you were right. I knew then, for that matter. I just felt guilty leaving home, leaving him. But I know now there was nothing I could do, and I didn't like what I was turning into. But enough about me. I'm so happy for you, John.” Her smile turned sunny as she surveyed the room. “Friends and a husband. You're going to have to tell me all about it.”

John felt a weight lift from his chest. He hadn't even realized he had been carrying it until he saw his sister again. He had long ago written off his father, but he had always hoped that Harry would find a way out. Now it seemed like life was offering fresh starts for the both of them.

It was late by the time they returned home, home now being Mycroft's house. “Here, there's something I want to show you.” Mycroft gently steered him down the upstairs hall with a hand to John's lower back. He opened a door that sat at the other end of the hall from the bedrooms. John stepped forward into a cozy little room with furniture chosen more for comfort than elegance. A thick rug cushioned the floor and a small fire place took pride of place on the left hand side.

“I thought you might like having your own space to be comfortable in, especially while recovering from heats.” Mycroft looked almost shy for a moment as he waited for John's reaction.

“Thank you, Mycroft. This is very thoughtful.” He turned from surveying the room to face his husband, placing his hands at his waist and giving him an affectionate squeeze. He stood on his toes in order to kiss Mycroft on the mouth. John let his arms fully encircle him, enjoying the ability to be physically affectionate. 

Mycroft pressed his lips to John's hair. “You are dear to me, and I want you to be happy here.”

“Oh, I think I will be.” John replied with a teasing smile. He listened to the quiet of the house for a moment. The servants would have gone to bed a little while ago. It was as private here as anywhere else. He softly slid his hands down to the front of Mycroft's trousers, a little thrill sparking in his own belly as he began undoing buttons and fastenings. 

“So many clothes, My.” He grumbled. 

This earned a chuckle from his husband. “Ah, what pains a gentleman must go through to be properly attired.” His response trailed off into a sigh of pleasure as John's fingers curved around his now exposed cock. 

“There we are.” John cooed, continuing to stroke the rapidly swelling organ. “Why don't you sit down?” He steered Mycroft onto the nearest chair with his free hand and sank down in front of it. 

“Oh!” Mycroft exclaimed softly when he realized just what John intended. “Oh, _John_.” He breathed as the omega's tongue licked up his length and toyed with the tip before taking as much of Mycroft into his mouth as he could.

Mycroft thrust helplessly up into the hot, wet, mouth. Not that John minded. He was comfortable with this particular act and wanted to share it with Mycroft. Indeed, he enjoyed seeing the normally controlled man let go and simply _feel_. 

He felt Mycroft tremble at the effort not to move further, and John pulled off briefly. “You don't have to keep still. You won't hurt me.” With that, he closed his eyes and slowly slid back down the length of his cock. Mycroft's fingers twined gently in his hair as he began to rock his hips. John loved this, loved feeling Mycroft take control with an alpha growl, tightening his fingers in John's hair as he thrust into the willing mouth. He also trusted that Mycroft wouldn't actually hurt him and knew that he was as interested in John's pleasure as his own. 

John rubbed the front of his own trousers with his free hand, wishing he were naked. Mycroft wasn't going to last much longer, that much was apparent. He was panting and moaning, the movement of his hips becoming erratic. “Oh, John! I'm --” 

John merely redoubled his efforts and was rewarded as Mycroft's body went rigid, and he spilled into his mouth. John swallowed down as much as he could, his own body feeling impossibly hot and aroused. He gently licked Mycroft clean before clambering up onto his lap.

“And where did you learn that particular skill? You're very good.”

“Ah,” John began, cuddling in closer. “Danby. He served under me as a nurse. He was promised to an alpha, but his intended wanted to be more financially secure before marriage. He returned to England some months before me in order to marry, once his mate was made partner by his firm. I intended to see how he was doing, but so many other things happened...”

“Well, it seems that I owe this Danby my thanks.” Mycroft pressed his lips to John's forehead as his fingers unbuttoned his waistcoat and shirt enough that he could find a nipple to play with. He rolled the little nub between thumb and forefinger as John gasped and pressed his groin against Mycroft's hip. Mycroft made a self satisfied sort of noise and opened the shirt enough that he could use his mouth on John instead. 

John thrust against his hip again, and then again, the motion becoming a helpless one as his arousal overtook him. “Oh, John,” Mycroft breathed against his chest. “What a sensual creature you are.” He continued to kiss and lick over his chest as John desperately chased after his own climax. He arched suddenly as pleasure overtook him, and he came in his pants as if he were still a boy with no control over his body. He also found that he didn't much care. He let his head drop onto Mycroft's shoulder, feeling sleepy and content.

* * *

It took a little time for John to feel fully at home in his new surroundings. He had gone from his family's modest dwelling, to life as a soldier, to the chaotic Baker Street flat, to a very nice well ordered house. Mycroft's strong sense of order and routine stood at a sharp contrast to Sherlock's. However, having spent years in the military, John had no difficulty adapting to a lifestyle that was a bit more punctual and orderly. He enjoyed sharing breakfast with Mycroft before they went about their separate daily business, and it was comforting to have someone to come home to. Not to mention waking up in bed next to a mate.

Since Mycroft was not himself an idle man, John felt no guilt in taking the time to see to his patients and drop in on Sherlock. He was also beginning to realize just how lucky he was. He had gained a husband, and while some adaptation was necessary, it hadn't been necessary to give up his old life. John admittedly look forward to receiving the bond bite that would permanently and visibly mark him as Mycroft's mate. Before the courtship began, John would never have thought to want such a thing. It smacked a little too much of ownership for his comfort. But now that he had found someone, the meaning of the bite changed for him. However, bond bites weren't given until the omega's heat – it would be unpleasant and painful at any other time. But during heat, the pain was transmuted into pleasure. And to be fair, not all alphas would be comfortable biting their omega hard enough to scar outside of rut. Bond bites were tied closely to mating, so John was not only forced to wait, but also to anticipate something having to do with his heat cycle. 

“It's strange.” He commented to Mycroft as they readied for bed. “I hadn't really thought about it, since we do share a bed, but I've never properly... _mated_ before.” He felt Mycroft's eyes on him as he pulled on a nightshirt over his otherwise bare skin, and a pair of arms encircled his waist from behind.

“I know, John dear.” He pressed several light kisses down John's jaw, inhaling his scent, and bringing his mouth down to John's neck. Mycroft lightly grazed his teeth along the spot where a scent gland lay beneath the skin. John shivered. 

The idea of heat was still disconcerting. He would be at his most vulnerable. But when Mycroft teased like that, John found himself not caring so much. “It should be soon – within the next fortnight or so.”

“Mmm...I look forward to it.”

* * *

It turned out that Mycroft didn't have long to wait.“Your heat is starting, John.” Mycroft said, sinking down next to him on the sofa a little over a week later. He placed a cool hand to his forehead. You've increased your food intake over the past three days, your skin is slightly over warm, and you were tossing and turning in your sleep last night. I've been watching you pick at your clothing all evening – your skin is oversensitive. Yet you are not fatigued or unwell.” He leaned in closer and inhaled. “Your scent hasn't changed yet, but it will, soon. It would be safest if you stayed in tomorrow.” Mycroft's fingertip traced the curve of his ear, making him shiver.

“Yes, I agree.” John had been aware that he was starting to experience symptoms, but was surprised that Mycroft had picked them out so quickly. Not that he should have been, considering the alpha in question was a Holmes. John was finding himself in a unique position. For the first time in his life, he would be experiencing a heat cycle with an alpha mate. No restraints, no days of desperate suffering and gnawing loneliness. How freeing it would be to be able to stop associating heat with anxiety. 

“I'm looking forward to not having to be tied down this time.” 

“Never again, John.” Mycroft squeezed his shoulders reassuringly and pressed his lips to John's forehead. As aloof as Mycroft could seem, he was no more made of ice than John was. In fact, he was surprisingly attentive, though he also noticed _everything_ which undoubtedly helped. No, he was very selective about who he became personally close with, but once in, you were cared for. John's eyes slid closed and he shifted closer to rest on the crook of Mycroft's neck. His approaching heat was already making him feel needy, but didn't want to really indulge, not yet. He had to rest up for what was coming.

His decision to hold off on love making became considerably more difficult. John had become used to being mounted in the morning, and this time when he woke it was to find Mycroft's hand gently rubbing his upper arm and back. It might have been pleasant, but he really would prefer to feel the warm, solid weight of the alpha covering his back, his nightshirt pushed up, Mycroft's sizable – John huffed in annoyance and bumped is arse against Mycroft's groin in a silent request to _please get on with it._

“No.” Mycroft enunciated quite clearly.

“What? Since when?” John demanded, peering over his shoulder at his bed mate.

“Since your heat is nearly on you, but it is not yet time. The next few days are going wear you out. I would rather you save your energies for when you truly need it.” He patted John's hip. “Your scent is beginning to change. I plan to stay at home with you today. I have some small business matters that can just as easily be handled here. I don't want you alone when the time comes.” He thought for a moment. “You might want to send a note round to Sherlock, so he doesn't come looking for you.” He gave John a meaningful look.

“Ah, yes, that would be awkward.” 

“Quite.” 

John watched as Mycroft slid out of bed. He wasn't sure if the man felt particularly eager to start the day, or because laying next to John was sorely testing his resolve. He supposed that he too should push himself to get moving. The itchy restless feeling had already begun, and he didn't relish the idea of changing into restrictive proper clothing. His feelings on the matter must have been plain on his face as he sat on the edge of the bed holding his trousers.

“It isn't necessary for you to dress. This is your home too, there's no reason you should be uncomfortable.”

“I'm not an invalid.” John protested, too accustomed to fighting the onset of heat cycles to easily capitulate even if this time was different.

“No, you are not. You are very, very well.” Mycroft rested his hands on John's shoulders and bent to press warm lips to his forehead.

In the end, John forced himself to dress, to begin his day normally. He had gone from being ravenously hungry over the past week to picking at his breakfast. His concentration was shot, and his clothing provided a constant, irritating distraction. Everything was too tight, too scratchy, and the only thing he wanted to feel against his skin was Mycroft's soft hands and warm mouth. He tried to read a book, but couldn't stay seated for more than a few minutes at a time. He attempted to write in his journal, but his thoughts wouldn't stay focused. 

“You clearly aren't comfortable, John.” Mycroft pointed out sometime later as he handed over a letter to Anthea who seemed to be playing the part of errand runner that day. He strode over and gently took John's hands in his own, feeling them shake. He bent his head to inhale his scent and smiled. “You smell delicious.” Lips lightly touched the sensitive skin just behind his ear, and then his jaw, and cheek and finally his lips. 

John's legs felt wobbly, the room suddenly far too warm. “I need you, My.” He stuttered out. He hadn't realized just how far gone he was until Mycroft touched him, focusing all his scattered thoughts, and sensations and needs into one point.

“Yes, you do, don't you. Come, I think it's time I take you up to bed. Past time.”

John protested as Mycroft snagged the maid, explaining something in a low voice. He quickly returned and and slid an arm around John. He clung to Mycroft, as functioning normally had become steadily more difficult.“It's all right, John, you're all right. I'm right here.” Mycroft soothed as he they made their way up the stairs.

Being held so close to the alpha further inflamed him, further broke him apart. He was aching with need now. Mycroft deposited John gently on the bed and closed the bedroom door. John attempted to undue the buttons of his tortuously uncomfortable waistcoat. His hands where pushed away so that Mycroft could more effectively remove the offending garments.

“You really could have stayed in your sleep clothes today.” Mycroft told him before bringing his mouth down to press wet kisses onto John's now bare abdomen. John moaned, his body trembling. Mycroft growled softly, making short work of John's shirt and turning to his trousers. 

“Oh, you are beautiful.” Mycroft murmured, eyes dark with lust as he quickly stripped off his own clothing so he could return to kissing and touching his mate. 

John was nearly beyond reason. Every touch of fingertips, lips and teeth was exquisite. He didn't think he'd ever been this hard before. He whined in desperation as Mycroft sucked hard at a nipple, pinning his hips so he couldn't seek friction against his lover's body. “Please, I need...”

“I know, dearest.” Mycroft murmured in his ear before lifting up and turning John over onto his belly.

John scrambled to his hands and knees, spreading his thighs apart. He could feel slick wetness run down the inside if his legs, and _Oh, God!_ , the head of Mycroft's cock rubbing against his arse. He didn't need his lover to work him open, this was what his body was meant to do, and he ached for it, to be filled so completely. “Please, My, please...” His voice came out in an uncharacteristic whine.

He groaned as Mycroft finally sank into him. The feel of firm hands on his hips, the fullness, the stimulation was breathtaking as the alpha began to thrust into his very willing body. Inarticulate noises of relief and pleasure spilled from his lips. Mycroft shifted to support himself with one hand while he wrapped the other arm around John, his chest rubbing against John's back. Teeth nipped lightly at John's shoulder, then a little harder at the join of his neck. John pushed back into him, wanting everything Mycroft could give him. He could feel the growing knot press against him, and he wanted that too. Needed it like he hadn't needed anything before in his life. 

Mycroft gripped him tighter, pushing his hips forward, willing John to stretch to his utmost. By rights it should have hurt, but the only thing John felt was a deep satisfaction and pleasure that became blinding when Mycroft bit the side of his neck hard enough to rupture the scent gland underneath the skin. Climax hit him hard, driving all other though and sensation out of his head.

There were brief respites here and there when the mating urge subsided enough to take care of basic needs and nap, safe and content with his mate. The passage of time felt hazy, the needs of his body his only focus. It was pleasant in a way that he wouldn't have believed heat could be – the physical release, the closeness with his mate, the confusion and chaos of the rest of the world pushed away for a short time. When John slowly returned to full consciousness on the fourth morning, it felt like more than just waking up from sleep. His mind was clearer than it had been in days, his body thoroughly relaxed. The space beside him was empty, and he raised himself on his elbows to look for his mate.

“I'm right here, John. How do you feel?”

John breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't been able to tell Mycroft had been in the room due to the scent heavy air. Mycroft looked clean and comfortable in a pair of striped pyjamas and dressing gown. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked John's hair. “Mmm... All right. Like I need to bathe.” He finally answered

“Do you need assistance?”

“Maybe.” With some effort, John pushed himself into a sitting position and scrubbed his hands over his face. Maybe turned into 'yes' upon standing. His legs were stiff and wobbly and he was sore. He leaned heavily against Mycroft, thanking god that the house had a nice tub. He really needed a good soaking.

“I'll have breakfast sent up.” He leaned over to kiss the top of his head. “You are exquisite, John.”

“Thank you.” He felt his cheeks heat from the compliment

“I know you need rest today, take as much time as you need. I have business to attend to, but it can be done from here, so if you need anything...”

John smiled up at him, still feeling a little fuzzy, and patted his hand. He then went about removing the sweat and fluids from his person. He slipped on the clean sleeping clothes that had been left for him, neatly folded and found, to his delight, that the bedding had been changed and window opened to air out the room. It now smelt like clean rain, the air cool but not cold. He managed a small bowl of porridge and a cup of tea, and slid back into bed, luxuriating in the clean sheets and warm blankets. He soon fell into a comfortably dozy state and didn't rise again until early afternoon. 

John sat in the little room Mycroft had given him reading a book, glad for the peaceful haven that was purely _his_. Mycroft had been in to check on him periodically, pausing to run fingers through his hair and kiss the top of his head, but otherwise he was left to his own devices in the understanding that he was tired and needed time to himself to regain his bearings. Though physically sore and fatigued, he felt good in a way that he had never experienced in conjunction with a heat cycle. It was undoubtedly because his body had been allowed to do what it had been made for, and he hadn't been forced to expend even more energy attempting to fight the symptoms. Being mounted by an alpha had also left him with longer periods of semi relief where he had been able to eat and drink more than had been usual. 

He had fallen into a doze when Sherlock burst in. “Ah, there you are. It's good to know that you are no longer physically attached to my brother. There's a new case, granted, it's not as challenging as I would like, but still--”

“Um, hello, Sherlock.” John blinked at him, attempting to put together the flow of words he had just been bombarded with. 

“Yes, hello, John. Now that we've dispensed with formalities, as I was saying – wait, you don't have a pup in there, do you?” He demanded pointing in the direction of John's midsection. 

John glanced down at himself with a frown. “I have no idea.”

“We should get someone to smell you. What about the maid? What is she?” The maid who had slipped in unobtrusively to light the gas regarded Sherlock in some alarm.

“She can't tell, Sherlock. No one would be able to for several weeks at least.” In truth, he hadn't really thought about it himself, still being fuzzy in the aftermath of heat. He rested his hand unconsciously on his belly. The chance that he could be with child was good considering he had experienced a normal heat prior to this. The suppressants were clearly well and gone from his system. Still, nature was a tricky thing and John wasn't apt to make any assumptions one way or another. He felt his lips tug into a smile at the thought.

“Look at what Mycroft's done to you – made you all soppy.” Sherlock grumped, but only half meaning it. “You look better than the last time.” He said in a very different voice.

“I feel better than the last time.”

“Just remember you said that when before you complain that your back and feet hurt, because you're full of Mycroft's child.”

“That would make it your niece or nephew.” John gently reminded him. 

“All right, when my niece or nephew interrupts your sleep and makes you miserable.”

“What were you saying about a case? I'm not really up for going anywhere right now, but I'd like to hear about it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was only supposed to be a relatively short story of about, er, 10,000 words or so. It took on a life of its own and doubled that. Thank you to all of you readers out there - I appreciate your kudos and encouragement. 
> 
> Admittedly, I didn't think I would get this chapter up on time. I've been sick this week and have had a hard time getting anything done. However, this morning I was hit with the urge to write. It's amazing what a decent night's sleep can do for you. Anyway, hope you enjoy!


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